Overdose
by Tifereth-Wolfe
Summary: Milo is a Drug Dealer. Shaina is an university student seeking for thrill in her life. And Saga and Saori are married and they are the Heads of a Drug Empire. Shura is from the Police Department. Oh boy...
1. Cocaine Kisses

_**Cocaine Kisses (Morphine Candy and Amphetamines) Pt. 1-**_

He was going late.

And, while his new Jaguar model purred beneath his demands and moved swiftly through the streets, he scowled frustratedly, the asphalt whining beneath the rubber material of the wheels, hitting it without mercy wiping away the water from the floor as it ran raggedly, towards it's destination, he put a cigarette to his lips, in order to contain his momentary desire for...

Another kind of cigarette.

Milo shook his head, and another scowl formed across his lips, while he inhaled the wonderful nicotine, that soothed his urges, his thin brows furrowing in slight concern. What if he had left already? Who could he get the mercancy from?

He needed to get back to his boss as suddenly as possible, and this unexpected delay was not something he would like.

While his boss was a patient man, he did not like to have his business interrupted by... personal issues. And the drug dealer understood perfectly.

And therefore, Milo was never late. Milo was efficient and quick witted, and, while his needs were particular and considered somewhat eccentric, noone ever complained about his talents and his ability as a business man.

Milo was a man of taste, and this was what made him so brilliant in his work. He sold the worst of the worst to the right people, and the best drugs to those who would have payed for it greatly. And he, of course, got a free sample, as a part of his... contract.

He also loved his job.

He got to satisfy his addiction in just the right dosis, he related to people whom he despised (and whom he knew he was going to ruin the lives of), got payed excellently, traveled, got an expensive car and beautiful women.

To Milo, life was good.

The sky opened above him in an impenetrable gray, reminding him of zinc, somehow. The sun was not more than a fading disk beneath the rain filled clouds, caressing the tips of each tall building that surrounded him.

His green eyes had gotten used to the lack of light in all his years in this place.

Although, he preferred New York than any other place in the world. Specially in winter.

The long haired man shook his head lazily, and pulled out his electronic agenda from his pocket, his eyes travelling from name to name, adress to adress, to finally find his destination, around a quite ugly looking, smelling corner.

He let the cigarette go, slipping from his fingers, a moment ago closed firmly around the filter, and he watched with a curious delight how the fire was consumed by the water on the street.

_University City. _

Milo didn't remember the place to be so unkept and filthy. The last time he got there, about two years ago, it was clean, and filled with light and laughing students, some reading under a tree, others having lunch on a bent, others feeding the doves...

He shrugged the memories off, and got out of his car, closing the door behind him with a loud 'thud'. Milo then Began to walk, with his bag of hachis under his arm, carefully wrapped into a larger silk fabric, his elegant black suit perfectly in place, not a single wrinkle in it.

He was just about to arrive to his current meeting, when something caught his eye. Someone.

A woman. A young woman, with unruly, green hair and equally green eyes (just like his'), laying on the floor pathetically, a neddle by her side, her small form convulsing under the shadows of a house's entrance, her skin coated with sweat, her clothes dirty and unkept.

Overdose, maybe?

He approached her, and when he was about to pick her up and carry her remains towards somewhere else, as if not for her to ruin his business here, he heard her, murmuring in a broken tone

_"Help..."_

Milo scowled.

This was not, apparently, his day.


	2. Heroine and Hachis

**Heroine and Hachis:**

"Are you fucking serious?" – the growling, dangerously low voice of his associated attacked his ears unexpectedly.

Milo blinked, seemingly unaffected.

Why did these things happen to him, anyway? He wasn't a good person, no. But he wasn't all that bad, either. He gave money to the homeless, went to church from time to time, and donated for charity. Some might have considered it hypocritic, but, what the hell. Milo found these things to be a relief for his soul. Or for what was left of it.

"It's only for a few moments, Camus."- he explained, calmly, to the handsome man sitting in front of him, cross legged, with a cup of coffee firmly attached to a large, masculine hand. He decided to ignore the glowing blue eyes, narrowed at him into a deathly, icy glare.-"I'll drive her back to...wherever the hell she lives a bit later."-he continued.

Another snarl.

Milo was begining to get annoyed now, and decided to set his gaze on the space surrounding him. Comfortable looking chairs everywhere, a crystal spider hanging above their heads, illuminating the otherwise dark eviroment. Small lamps deposited on each space that was not reached by the almost nonexistant natural light slipping from a large window. And wooden furniture, contrasting with the blood red carpet at their feet. A few imitations of famous paintings on the white walls, and flowers at the entrace, under a good sized mirror. Pictures from Camus and his family, pictures of himself in his graduation day, and with a pretty dark haired girl, settled in the entrance of that same building.

The man had good taste. Always had have good taste, and that was, in part, why he liked him.

"You should've taken her to the fucking hospital first, you fucking jerk."-

"Like you'd wait?"- he snapped at him, dryly, and simply left the requested drug on the small coffee table between them, careful not to touch the sleeping female on the same couch he was sitting in. – "And besides, I don't know this bitch. I don't want to be inspected and leave my name anywhere near a place where the law is involved."

"She could've died!"- Camus insisted, rubbing his temples. "And what's worse, you drove her here. Here! At our quarters! At the place where all the fucking students buy our junk. By the name of God, if anyone sees her here, Milo, I'll fucking tell Saga on your ass, and then you'll be fucked."

"Whatever. The money, now."-he extended a hand, rolling his eyes, already slightly angered. – "And quit saying "fuck" already, Camus. Sounds like you need to get laid."

The air between them tensed considerably, before he was surprised by the other male's fresh laughter.

"Fine, fine."- Camus took the oportunity to brush a strand of his own hair away from his features, and rose to his feet, to seek for the money, probably hidden in another room.

Milo knew he was right. The woman could've died. But she didn't, right? So there you go. Pretty lady's alive, he got his business done, and-... His eyes widened slightly when he accidentally set them on his clock.

"Fuck. Camus, could you please hurry? Saori's waiting for me, for lunch."-

He heard a groan.

"So impatient, so impatient. Can't you wait? I put about twenty fucking combinations on this shit and I can't open it in two seconds, you'll understand."-

"There's something called bank, you know? Hurry, Lady in Charge's waiting for me, and she's pretty much fucking intimidating."- Milo quickly began picking up his things; his jacket, his gloves – "People shouldn't be allowed to smile like that 24/7... Specially women, lemme' tell you..."

"Why wouldn't women want to smile, always?"-

Milo froze in his place, and tilted his head quickly towards the feminine, weak voice, whose's sound made Camus peek from the other room.

There were a pair of jade eyes staring at both of them, accentuated by a charming, timid smile.

"Well... fuck."-

If things were complicated before... Now he was just fucked.


	3. Withdrawal and Marihuana Gangbanging

_**A/N: **__**I know I've left you alone for so long... But I still hope you can take a bit of time to comment on it, if you wouldn't mind. Dedicated to Valdemar, to whom I promise that once I get inspired enough to finish Duality, I will concentrate my energies on that fic.**_

_**Enjoy.**_

_**Withdrawal and Marihuana Gangbanging:**_

_Please make it stop_ - she chanted, over and over again, because if she didn't think about it it wouldn't happen and GOD it hurt so damned much. Her body was shaking, shaking and she grasped for something _anything_ in the dark, and her body twisted and her breathing hitched and everything _everything_ hurt but where was absolutely nothing around her. What was happening? Good God _make it stop_. She never thought she would pray but this, this if there was anyone around they should help her, because it didn't matter who they were _everything just hurt so fucking much_ and something punctured at her lungs and she couldn't inhale properly because her nostrils burned and something was igniting in her veins and GOOD GOD MAKE IT STOP.

Twist. Twist. Impact. And again, all over again, and the process was driving her over the edge, to the very end and her head just kept fucking HITTING the nonexistent ground and the pain shot shivers down her spine did she even _have_ a spine? Holy SHIT it hurt so much she couldn't think it could get any worse but it did and it got so bad that a loud, enraged scream was tore from her very chest; born in the very pit of her stomach and dead in the empty room. Was it a room? She didn't know, she didn't know anything, she only wanted it to _stop_.

And her back arched into an almost inhuman angle and she hoped it would ease it all, the new position because if her head was firmly pressed against the semi-soft surface she couldn't hit it anymore but it was getting worse and _only worse_ and she was beginning to pant and the cold sweat was running down her body that was contorting and _God,_ if she only were coherent enough she would have entertained herself with thoughts of considering it a career but no, because the pain was _too much_.

Everything was spinning and she couldn't concentrate, she couldn't focus because it was all too overwhelming, she couldn't, _wouldn't _open her eyes again. The last time she did she had seen the two most gorgeous men on the face of the Earth, so beautiful that they could not possibly be mortals so she reasoned they were angels. Angels, wonderful angels; one of them was cursing constantly and she could hear him with such a clarity it had left her ears buzzing painfully but she never believed angels to be perfect and it made _perfect_ _sense _and she almost laughed at the thought. Demons were beautiful too, so perhaps they were demons that were going to take her to hell for all she had done in her life, maybe it was hell where she truthfully belonged after ruining a would-be impressive, brilliant career, for having fucked up her parents and their hopes on her, for sinking that needle (Oh Gods, that exquisite needle that just made everything go away) in her flesh and she had loved it, she had loved all the way down to the bottom and she wouldn't mind so much if she weren't agonizing like this, if the world wouldn't be such a fucking hurricane of colors and scents and voices and eerily, incredibly attentive, wary green and blue eyes staring down at her with glints of amusement and concern .

And then, she fell. The sickeningly low noise she made could only be described as a sack of bones hitting pavement; although it had absolutely nothing to do with reality. First off, she was nowhere near what would be considered skinny, but slender and athletic and she had _muscles _and second, Camus'carpet looked quite comfortable and... Well, fluffy, in Milo's opinion.

If only she could feel it like that it would have been fantastic, but it didn't. Everything felt just... hard and painful and hell, she was hard and painful and good Gods, had she just broken a fucking rib? Because it surely felt like something with a sharp end was about to make contact with her lung and breathing was becoming too difficult and...

"Withdrawal must be a bitch,"- the man with jade eyes and long, messy hair commented while looking down at her, attentive and somewhere near _amused, _the raging son of a bitch.

She blinked. She hadn't even known she had her eyes open in the first place but looking at these men was most definitely worth it even with their little cocky smirks that she wanted to wipe from their faces with a baseball bat.

And so, when she was about to part her full, dry lips to retaliate the inherent insult within that phrase, she was interrupted by a long, painful lament escaping her mouth... although the aching was almost completely gone, and she couldn't be more glad.

Two pair of strong hands made her rise to her feet, and they positioned her on the same couch she had just been laying on in a seating position; back pressing firmly against the smooth (now she could appreciate it) fabric of the furniture.

The man with blue eyes (tall and oh so amazingly handsome) sported a cold, distrusting expression across his features; eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to be in deep thought, thin lips curved downwards into a frown. After a few minutes, he spoke, and his voice was raspy and low, sensuous in it's unique tone.

"What is your name?"-

She weighted the profits of telling or not telling them. On one hand, she could be grateful for being saved by them... then again, she had no reasons to continue living (or too many, maybe) but she had been educated to be a lady, and so she should answer, but speaking... Urgh. She had also be raised to NOT be a self-destructive, drug addicted bitch, and yet she was still there, trembling like a fucking idiot because she had gotten the wrong dose of heroin. Screw the 'functional junkie' label, she was pretty much fucked up already.

Finally, the green-eyed woman replied softly, while reaching to wipe some disgustingly greasy green hair from her delicate features, tucking said strands behind one pierced ear.

"Shaina. Shaina D'Angelo,"- she said, simply, before beginning to elaborate further.-"Classroom C, third year. My specialty is venom and... toxic substances, if you may. Pretty fucking ironic, eh?"- she laughed dryly, earning a disbelieving look from both males- "Some call it medicine. I call it karma."

A long pause.

Silence.

"Now, gentlemen..."- she trailed off, forcing her lips into a smile, attempting and failing miserably at controlling the helpless shudders running along her thin form-", your names?"

The men looked at each other with increasing awe, completely dumbstruck.

They had the option of not telling her. She could tell the police but then again---what did she know? She had commented on Milo's comment about smiling women and all that shit, but, had she heard what they had been discussing earlier? Did she even remember, after the attack she had had only moments ago?

Camus and Milo doubted this, yet, like everything, it was always a possibility and it was obvious the woman was intelligent.

What a fucking conundrum.

Still, considering she was familiar with their business (it was, after all, what had started all this bloody mess) it would be stupid to tell anyone of the authorities about them, considering her current state. And this woman was most certainly _not _stupid. Perhaps with a death wish, but since when wanting to die was considered something dumb? It was pretty much the opposite, since this world was... Well. This world.

Finally, Milo took a seat beside her; his weight settling comfortably next to hers' and Shaina silently relished in his warmth against her increasingly cold form.

"Milo,"- he stated with deep, grave, velvety voice that made her knees go weak. And the sensation went worse when he looked her in the eye.- "Milo d'Scorpius"

At his partner's sudden retort, Camus himself took a seat on one of his wooden chairs, facing them.

"Camus. Camus d'Aquarius."-

The woman wondered if they were alias, and they probably were, but the answer satisfied her for the time being.

"Now..."- she coughed,-"Camus, Milo... What the fuck is going on?"-

The male inhabitants of the room shared a stare and one of them sighed.

This woman was bound to be a pain in the ass in the near future, they just knew it.


	4. Leading the path through broken needles

_**A/N:**_ _**Guess who is back… insert maniacal laughter here**_

_**Ahem… so. Let's just see how dear Shaina makes these poor drug dealer's lives a hell. **_

_**Leading the path through broken needles and **__**money pieces:**_

Ah, now, this felt nice.

Nicer than being thrown out in the streets, anyway.

Her hair was wet and the air was cold and her skin was screaming for warm clothes instead of the fluffy, small, white towel that was wrapped around her, but she didn't complain. She couldn't.

Camus' apartment was nice, cozy, and rather elegant looking. It smelled sweet and it reminded her a bit of her home, back in Italy.

What was she doing in New York, anyway? Studying and getting drunk and wasted and shit, what was she doing to herself?

All of them were really good questions, actually.

So good she didn't have an answer.

Actually, she didn't have shit of an excuse. Really... She had sunk to the very bottom of society, and she had relished in every second of it. Every time the needle sunk in her veins and freed the toxic substance in her blood, bringing rush and lust and desires and beautiful _oblivion _that had rescued her from routine, from real life.

Because, she didn't want this. Not really. She didn't want to become respectable and successful because that wasn't herself.

She only wanted freedom. To be free, you need money. To gain money, you need to work. And to get a job, you need to be the very best.

Her parents had explained this to her, and she had listened, because that was what was, indeed, expected of her.

And so Shaina had been fully prepared to be a doctor since she was thirteen.

But, now that she was twenty-two, not anymore.

She thought she was going to die that night, when she had lay there on the pavement. And the thought didn't quite bother her anymore; she only had wanted the pain to subside.

Now that the pain was gone, she was glad that she still could breath, move, laugh, speak and see these two excellent male specimens who were currently taking care of her. Albeit not very gently, but it was better than nothing.

"Shaina,"- a masculine voice came from the other side of the door, and a loud knock followed it. - "Get your ass out of there. I got you clothes."

It was probably Milo. Well, he might have saved her, but it didn't give him the right to treat her like crap.

"Milo,"- she replied, her voice deceivingly calm from the inside of Camus' bedroom. - "_You _get your ass here, the door is unlocked. I'm _naked _and it's freezing over here."

Milo weighted his options, momentarily resting his forehead against the wooden door. Okay, she was naked and she was cold. Good reason for him to go and hand her the clothes.

He was a man and she was attractive, naked and cold and he felt his body heat rising as she spoke these words. Good reason for him _not _to go in there.

Honestly, he cared more for his sanity than he did about her dying of hypothermia, so it would be better if he stayed the hell away and…

Ah, fuck it. Who was he trying to fool? He had just saved her fucking life. Passing her some clothes wouldn't kill him.

His fingers closed around the doorknob and, tentatively, removed the lock, pushing the door open.

In the whole two seconds that took him stepping into the room, he focused in his thoughts. He wondered why God hated him, and why was he doing this to himself. He was going to piss Saori off, he just knew it. He was being _insanely _late, and neither of his bosses liked tardiness and there he was, still at Camus' while the wife of _the _crime organization's leader was waiting for him at some café to discuss God only knew what. Two hours late. He was two fucking hours late, and when he had attempted to call her to inform her of his delay, her cell phone was off.

Great. Just fucking _great. _

Just his luck, he realized, and sighed in defeat.

His life insisted to suck. It appeared to be one of those days when he shouldn't have gotten off bed at all.

He mentally made a list of the things that had occurred since he had accepted to get off his lazy ass and go to work.

-Camus' passive-aggressiveness.

- A chick with overdose

- Late for a meeting with his murderous boss-lady.

-Getting a hard on for only looking at the incredibly appealing overdosed chick---_Oh man, _please _someone_ tell me _I didn't think that_. Because that's wrong, even for me _I will not get aroused by this woman in a tiny, itsy bitsy towel, I shall not---…_

It was too late. His blood was already pumping downwards; his face had already taken a bit of that annoying red color forming a disgusting _blush _and his eyes were already traveling along her lithe form; stopping only to look at her angered face and fiery green eyes.

_Ow, fuck, why me?_

"Here are the clothes,"- he croaked hoarsely, sounding _way _too affected as he eyed the woman with fake disinterest. - "They will not fit. It's one of my suits. I also included a belt. You will most likely need it."

Shaina merely grunted a "thank you" and snatched the garments, also blushing.

"Yeah, yeah,"- he said, idly scratching the back of his head with a scowl. - "Don't get too excited, now. I'm still taking your ass to a hospital as soon as you get settled. I've important shit to do…"-

Snap. **SMACK. **

A flash of pain, and then anger. A lot of it.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT," – he hissed, stepping back and rubbing the offended area (which happened to be his very sensitive lower backside) that had been tortured by the hit of his own fucking belt.- "You fuckin' crazy BITCH"

"_That",_- she said, hissing all the same and not even bothering to hide her wrath this time,- "was for being a crude, ruin, _rude _son of a flipping bitch."-

"You little _shit _I saved your worthless life, you obnoxious piece of crap!" - He screamed, enraged. Honestly, this woman had accomplished the rather hard work of driving his self-control to zero in record time. Oh, and she was going to regret it now, the fucking slut. This was not a woman, this was not someone he had saved a few hours ago, she was not a fucking victim, this was just a fucking being who had dared to raise her hand against him and he was _not _going to tolerate it.

And so, promptly, he launched himself at her, crushing her against the mattress, trapping her beneath his greater size and weight and grasping her wrists when she tried to wriggle away from him, forcing them above her head and the pillow.

"You fucking bastard, let me go!"- She screamed, but he wasn't listening. He'd teach her, the bitch. Of course, he would not rape her, it was not in his principles and he knew how bad it could be for someone, anyone, but he was most certainly not going to allow this to go past unnoticed. Shaina had wrapped her legs around his waist and was now trying to switch positions, shifting and twisting and resisting as much as she was able to and it no longer mattered that her towel had fell along the way, somewhere at the beginning of the struggle.

"What if I don't want to, huh, bitch?"- He replied, glaring murderously down at her, perfect teeth clenched in anger.

"I'm _so _castrating you, you---"-

"_Ahem_."-

The pair stopped wrestling to look at the very source of the voice, which was standing calmly, pressing his back against the door frame with an arched eyebrow and amusement glinting in his deep blue eyes.

"Well, you…"- Camus resisted the urge to chuckle and recomposed himself, forcing once more the impassive façade- "most certainly don't loose any time, Milo."

Silence. Which, the man took as a perfect opportunity to continue with his tirade.

"Then again, I'm afraid that I have informed Saori and Saga of our little… adventure today. She demands the both of you, immediately. As soon as possible."- Camus glanced at his watch. - "As in… now."

More stunned silence. Two pairs of green eyes staring up at him from his own bed, which, disturbingly, didn't bother him as much as it should.

"I suppose I could tell her to wait. You two seem busy."- And with this, he turned on his heels, unable to help a little happy tune that just _begged _to leave his mouth as he closed the door behind him.

Milo felt his knees give in and he collapsed on top of the smaller, very much naked woman who had finally snapped out of her stupor and began cursing and clawing at him.

Ignoring her and her protests, he buried his face in the pillow and screamed his fucking lungs out.

It was official, this day couldn't get any worse.


End file.
